


Forging Ahead

by jstin8



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Logistics, if you want something written you best do it yourself, no beta we die like men, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstin8/pseuds/jstin8
Summary: A story meant to pick at and dissect the relationship between Hector and Lenore. Will they find love? Does Lenore only want to use Hector like the rest? Does Hector have feelings for Lenore? Fuck if I know, but I plan on finding out alongside you.
Relationships: Hector/Lenore (Castlevania)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At the very least, Hector could always find some solace at his forge. *Could*. Past tense.

If there were any mundane benefits to creating an army of malicious hell monsters for a council of sadistic vampires, it was how good said night creatures were at keeping confidences. Hector could never betray the sisters, and by proxy neither could the night horde he forged for them, but the monsters answered to _him_ first and foremost. It was something he took solace in, that when Striga would first bark out a command to a freshly made member of the horde, they would always turn to him for confirmation that Striga and her ilk were to be obeyed.

If Hector needed to scream or shout or cry in front of one, he could do so freely and without fear of judgment or reprisal. If he wished to confess any idle musings or errant thoughts, then he merely had to cut out the tongue of any corpse before he forged them into something better, and his secrets were safe.

In a castle where Hector knew that all of his movements and actions were under constant scrutiny, his forge was the one place he could take solace. Probably, Hector mused, intentionally designed that way by Morona so that he would spend more time forging their army. He dared not go back to the apartment she renovated for him. It was... well it was damn near perfect wasn’t it? Better than anything he had at the wooden shack he had called a home, and better still than even what Dracula had provided for him. It was spacious, with fur carpets made from exotic beasts he had never heard of, with a fine oak table big enough to seat guests, cushions and futons to provide comfort to its occupants, and bookshelves filled with ancient tomes of vampire history and art. The room’s great opulence was matched only by Hector’s burning desire to never step foot in that accursed place whenever the option presented itself.

Because Hector knew, he damn well _knew_ what, or rather who, waited for him should he open that door and step foot inside his room. She would be waiting for him there, sitting at the foot of his bed with a smile on her face.

“You’ve been working awfully long Hector,” he could hear Her whisper in the back of his mind.

“You should be rewarded for working so _hard_.”

With a voice as smooth as velvet, beckoning him forward, towards Her, suddenly dreaming dreams he dared not ponder for fear of accepting his new role as a slave. She would reward him, oh yes would she, and he would be grateful for both the reward and that damn bath Morona had installed because he would then spend the next hour rubbing his skin raw desperately trying to feel clean once again.

And thus, Hector sought refuge in his forge, his one bastion of solitude in the entire castle. It was, like everything else She had arranged for him, perfect. Located on the grounds near the stables so the stench of rotting flesh wouldn’t intrude on the comfort of the castle’s denizens, it had all he ever needed for his dark craft. A large hearth was kept lit at all times to keep him warm, and provided ominous illumination for the large stone slab that laid in the middle of his forge. On the opposite wall, piles of corpses laid, waiting for Hector to move them onto the slab and forge the errant flesh into an army of night creatures. The room also held a desk, stocked with parchment and ink, as well as compartments to store any required tomes that may be of use or enrichment.

Hector took a body from the pile and carried it towards the slab, set it down, and got to work. He could normally simply raise his hammer, focus his magic, and create a night creature in the time it might take to lace up a pair of boots, but that took energy, and was suited more towards converting small groups quickly, compared to the hundreds demanded of him every week. Almost absent mindedly, Hector began preparing the body for forging. At the very least, his imprisonment had not robbed him of his talent. Bone morphed and grew, wings sprouted from the back, teeth became fangs as his grim work continued. As the night creature began to take shape, he faintly heard the door swing open. Assuming it was merely Striga coming with more corpses for him to work on, Hector paid no heed to the entrant, until he felt a clawed finger take him by the jaw, and directed his gaze towards the most beautiful face he had ever known. Which, as it so happened, also belonged to the cause of his suffering.

She was beautiful, wasn’t she? Hair as red as the fires of hell, and struck a figure better than any woman Hector had ever known in his life. Her smile could wash away all thoughts and force the mind to focus only on her. And you had to be careful at that point, because while you were staring, wondering how such a beauty could ever grace the earth, you’d never see the myriad of strings tied to every word, every action, every micro instant of her being. Not until you were trapped, bound within a cage inside a prison, as Hector found out. He was never even a challenge, and he resented that. Not Her, mind you, he resented himself for being so damn foolish. Foolish enough to believe that she actually _cared_ , that She truly wanted to help him, and not just use him like the rest. He hated how easily he trusted those honeyed words, how much he wanted to trust them, and that fucking ring he now wears on his figure; a permanent reminder of his failings.

Lenore smiled that innocent, loving smile of hers, fangs nearly imperceptible. The authenticity of which Hector had given up trying to decipher.

“You’ve been in here since dusk, darling. Surely you’ve earned yourself a break by now? You haven’t even eaten yet today,” she said, teasingly.

“I haven’t been hungry yet,” Hector lied.

As a matter of fact he was starving, but generally waiting for dawn to eat was enough to avoid Lenore, and working in his forge was enough to keep the other three off his back.

“What do you _want_ Lenore? I’m busy crafting the army you enslaved me to make.”

“Conversation, Hector. I can’t fathom that one could isolate themselves with only night creatures for company without wanting to talk to someone about it.”

She turned and glided seamlessly towards his desk. Raising a basket that Hector had failed to notice when she first arrived, she set it on the wooden desk before turning back around to face him. Hector turned instead towards his work. The night creature was almost ready, the transformation all but complete, another soldier for Styria’s upcoming war.

“What is there to say? If you want a night creature,” he motioned for the newly formed monster to move outside, “Here is a night creature. If you want conversation... here’s a night creature.” He said, motioning again, this time to Lenore. He could feel desire and bile rising up inside him, both in equal measure. A slight buzz emanated from the ring. A warning not to do anything stupid that he would regret. He felt Lenore move up behind him, one hand delicately placed on his shoulder, another draped across his chest, lips close to his ear.

“And what if I want sex, my dear Hector?” She asked, sweetly.

“Well I just made a night creature with...”

His head hit the ground. _Hard_. The left side of his face was red and his vision blurry. It was a damn stupid thing to say. He _knew_ that it was a damn stupid thing to say. So why on God’s earth did he say something so vulgar and so _damn_ stupid? He looked up at Lenore, her hand unmoved from whence it struck him. There was a look of anger on her face, and perhaps hurt as well? He couldn’t tell.

“That was rude of you, _Pet_. But I think I shall address that outburst as a solitary event,” She said. Already she began to soften her demeanor, and Hector couldn’t tell how she truly felt.

“Now, I have had our chef prepare a great meal for the two of us. We can share it now, if that would please you. I know you’re hungry, despite your claims prior.”

Lenore turned back towards his desk and began unpacking her basket. The aromas quickly reached Hector and he felt his stomach practically lurch towards the source. 'To hell with it,’ He thought to himself. He was starving, and if he were to continue to be angry towards Lenore, he might as well do it on a full stomach. Hector picked himself off the wooden floor, grabbed a spare chair from the wall, and walked towards the desk.


	2. Hellish Logistics and Other, Minor Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For future reference, gonna turn this work into a series of one shots mostly following Hector from a narrative standpoint, although the topics of each chapter can change drastically, as seen by this long musing about how the hell raising an army of demons for conquest would actually work, as well as potential explanations for why Issac can summon demons so fast while Hector seemed to take his time in S2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I’ll post a more pure Lenore/Hector story after this but this whole idea about the logistics of a demonic army has been eating at my mind. Sorry if this isn’t what you were hoping for/expecting.
> 
> I come from a military family, sue me!

The nights had been tiresome for Hector, and frankly daytime hadn’t been providing much respite either. Which was just as well he supposed, as he hadn’t been able to find the ability to sleep even when he didn’t have corpses to forge. 

There were no shortage of ignorant fools in the castle who thought his dark craft was some easy task, a mere application of hammer and corpse with some basic alchemical philosophies thrown in for good measure. They couldn’t even begin to comprehend the work Hector put into crafting each individual night creature he forged, the niche that they would fullfill and capabilities they could provide so long as their forgemaster cared enough to work out the details. They couldn’t begin to understand all that Hector had taught himself, for if there were any books amongst the humans that could teach an aspiring forgemaster, the Church had long since seen to the destruction of such knowledge. 

Who else could divine what changes the nearly imperceptible differences in tone and rhythm of each strike of his hammer could cause in a corpse. The ancient runes from antediluvian manuscripts guaranteeing that the form and build of each and every night creature would be specifically to his liking. It was in stark contrast to his peer, Issac, who was content to merely use any available corpse as a vessel for its demonic host, with little care as to what may come. It could be compared to throwing a massive fishing net across the entire sea. Sure there was the chance that you may catch a shark, but you may also catch a guppy in the same token. 

Hector took a slower, more methodical approach to his forging, guaranteeing that what he would present to his patrons, be it Lord Dracula himself or that hellish Council of Styria, would be more than a mere motley horde of hell-spawn. It would be an army. One with order and purpose. One that did as it was directed and didn’t cause needless suffering and in fact could avoid it should the option present itself. Hector could recall all of the arguments and shouting matches he got into with the vampiric generals. How it would grate on his nerves that no, you dont need to play in the blood of children, or explaining the folly of charging headlong into any battle without tactical planning. It was of no surprise to Hector that they were all slain so easily by the Belmont and his compatriots when they refused to entertain the notion that humans could ever be a threat to them.

If you think that arranging thousands of various night creatures into a working army with any trace of precision or discipline is easy, then you haven’t thought it through.

To put it into some sort of perspective, the entire demonic horde was categorized by the General Striga into one regiment. Which in itself was comprised of seven companies which could each be broken down into seven platoons. Factor in seven squads for each platoon, and ten demons for each squadron. The demons were comprised of nine lesser demons, and one greater demon, which itself could often be identified by its glowing blue eyes signifying a higher intellect. This would allow each squadron to not only move independently of each other, but it also gave them the intelligence needed to adapt to the situation at hand while still progressing to their goal so long as the greater demon remained alive. Throw in several flying demons used for communication between companies and you begin to see the full picture of the demonic portion for Styria’s army.

Not that any of these minor details meant anything to the Queen. If Hector didn’t have Striga on his side in regards to the organization and mobilization of the army he probably would have been forced to seriously downgrade the quality of his forging to appease Carmila’s high demands. Thankfully the good General had a pragmatic streak that overrode her condescending attitude towards him when it came to creating their army. Willing to work together with the forgemaster and even learn about the demons that he crafted so she could better lead the armies of Styria into battle. Which Hector could begrudgingly respect, and just as well. For in one week the conquest would begin.

And hell was sure to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this all on my phone in one shot at 1:30AM, which means there will be mistakes and formatting issues. Not to mention my concerns about how damn dry all this logistical bullshit may be. So if you have any comments or critiques, be sure to let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Well thats it for chapter 1. I hope to write many more stories regarding these two soon. I certainly have more free time on my hands in light of recent events! This is the second story I have ever published, and the first one with any dialogue. If you see any problems with formating, or have any critique on what I can do better, I am open to any and all *constructive* criticism.


End file.
